


Hypnotizing the Sourwolf

by QuinnTheJedi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Feels, Hypnotism, M/M, POV Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:24:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4484522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuinnTheJedi/pseuds/QuinnTheJedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek gets hypnotized to remember what happened in Mexico, Stiles gets sidetracked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hypnotizing the Sourwolf

**Author's Note:**

> Aftermath of season 4, some spoilers

“This is stupid.”  
Stiles whirled in his computer chair, snapping his book shut; shaking his head at the brooding werewolf perched uncomfortably on the side of his bed. Derek looked so out of place in his room, it had been a long time since he was crashing on the floor of his room and posing as Miguel; much had transpired and so much space had grown between them.  
The past few years had been a whirlwind. They'd been immersed in so much tragedy, so much pain and so many betrayals, they'd all become fractured and distant. Erica and Boyd died, Cora left, Isaac disappeared... Scott may have become a true alpha but he was without a pack, abandoning Ethan after the deaths of Aiden and Allison; consumed by grief and seeking out only Kira for comfort. Lydia had lost both her past boyfriends, Jackson when he moved to London and then Aiden; she had been subconsciously putting space between herself and the rest of them, focusing on Deputy Parrish and the bestiary. As for Stiles, he'd majorly fucked up when he'd neglected to tell Malia when he found out she was adopted and they'd never quite recovered. They grew further apart and eventually split when she decided to go live with Peter and be with her real family, his dad hadn't forgiven him for losing her yet.   
Derek had gone missing for a while after his epic transformation into a full wolf in Mexico, he had stayed behind to find answers to what was happening to him, but no one knew exactly what he had been doing down there. When he returned Braeden wasn't with him, he offered no explanation as to her whereabouts other than a short retort that she was helping out Mr. Argent.  
He'd approached Stiles a few days ago, that is to say, he'd come through his window like he owned the place and demanded his assistance. For fear of his life Stiles had agreed before he knowing what he was agreeing to, ending up dedicating the past 72 hours of his life to researching how to become an expert in the art of hypnotism. Derek hadn't found the answers he was looking for and it all came back to Kate and her magic spell that had turned him into a teenager again, leading to him losing his powers and his transformation. He needed to know what happened but had no memory of it, hoping Stiles could put him under and dredge up what he needed.  
“This is stupid.” Derek muttered again, scowling at his alarm clock; Stiles threw up his arms in exasperation.  
“Dude, this was your idea, remember?”  
“It was a stupid one.”  
Every muscle in the guy's body was tense, shoulders tight, hands curled into fists, eyebrows drawn together and his jaw clenched. Stiles sighed and hung his head, he wasn't really surprised he was clamming up now they were about to get down to it. Hypnotizing supernatural beings was more difficult than normal people and it could prove dangerous, if not deadly; and that was besides the usual misgivings of letting someone into your unfiltered subconscious.  
“Listen man, don't worry. I can do this, it'll work. And then we can figure out why, besides all of the obvious, disturbing implications, Kate would want to turn you into a prepubescent boy.”  
Derek made a warning noise deep in his throat and Stiles wished he had the ability to physically eat his words, shooting him a nervous, lopsided smile. “And hey, as a bonus, I promise I won't mess with you while you're out and program you for evil. Or make you think you're Ms. Piggy and videotape you for blackmail.”  
Derek's head snapped up and he glared at him murderously, Stiles' breath hitched in his chest and he let out a small squeak, instantly hating himself for it. “Hey, wait, I said I wouldn't do that.” he specified, words rushing out of his mouth as he waved his arms defensively. Hazel eyes narrowed at him before breaking eye contact to glance out the window, he breathed in deeply and let it out through his nose. When he looked back at Stiles he seemed calmer, a bit less like he was about to just forgo their whole plan and take the opportunity while they were alone to rip his throat out for always being such a sarcastic, annoying little shit.  
“So we're doing this?” Derek demanded, eyes darting around the room apprehensively, for a brief moment he looked vulnerable in his hesitation despite his pissy behavior.  
“Yeah buddy, as long as you don't chicken out.” Stiles tried not to feel anxious and leaned back, the chair creaking as he rotated himself back and forth, gripping the arms to keep his fingers from fidgeting. Derek clenched his teeth and gave a short nod, peeling off his leather jacket to reveal a gray v-neck underneath. He tossed it behind him on the bed, looking uneasy; he worked his jaw and sent an annoyed glare at the chair as it squeaked under Stiles' restless movements, pushing his sleeves up his forearms. “So how's this gonna work?” he inquired warily, a note of resolute concession in his voice.  
Stiles took the book off his lap, spinning around to toss it on the desk, reaching out for the mouse and clicking on the browser. “Well, ah, I'm not super sure of my abilities,” he admitted over his shoulder, not meeting his eyes, “So I found this guy on youtube who can put you in a trance.”  
“Oh great.” Derek scowled deeply, “Won't it put you in a trance if you listen to it too?”  
He shook his head and began typing into youtube's search bar, bringing up a list of videos of a slender man with a soft smile. “Nah, you gotta shut your eyes for it to take. I read that werewolves can go a little feral if it's near the full moon and I think we're all set on that front, but it said if you start changing I should ground you with your name to keep you human.” he was audibly preoccupied as he spoke, distracted by scrolling through the list and squinting at the text for the title he was looking for.  
A thick black eyebrow rose at him, “And how exactly are you going to figure out what Kate did?”  
“Got that covered.” he selected a video and paused it, spinning back to face him.“I gotta bring you to it, lead you through your memories til you reach what we need. Then I clap my hands and presto, you'll be back to the land of the living.”  
Derek shifted uncomfortably on his mattress, glancing at Stiles' pillow. “Fine. So what do I do, do I lay down, or,” he trailed off and lifted his eyebrows, Stiles shook his head.  
“Nah. You're more likely to just fall asleep and dream that way. If you sit or stand you're more responsive.” he took a deep breath and raised his eyebrows at him, legs bouncing as he tried not to burst with nervous energy. “So, you ready?” Derek gave a curt nod. “Alright, close your eyes.”  
He grumbled and did so, Stiles clicked play on the video and a smooth, monotonous voice filled the room, gentle and firm. The instructions were bizarre, something about imagining self-will and consciousness as the color red filling your body and the peace of the world being blue; to control your breathing and exhale the red and inhale the blue. Derek snorted in derision a few times through the monologue but seemed to acquiesce, his breaths coming more slowly. Stiles watched as tension began to ebb from his body; his shoulders and hands relaxing, eyelids fluttering, his tight expression slowly softening.  
The video came to an end and Stiles clicked pause before it automatically played the next one, looking over at the man slouching on his bed. He had never seen Derek look so calm, so at peace, not even when he was sleeping. He found himself staying silent for longer than he should, Derek was never relaxed and the guy deserved the break; it was an odd relief to catch a glimpse of him without his hardened exterior. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded far too loud in the quiet house.  
“Derek? Can you hear me?”  
Stiles nearly jumped out of his goddamn chair when Derek's eyes opened, sitting up a bit and straightening his shoulders, his hazy gaze transfixed forward. “Yes.” he answered, voice without its usual edge; more lethargic than biting, missing inflection and tone. Stiles cleared his throat and Derek looked at him, watching him patiently. Yup, it was official, hypnotized-Derek was as creepy, if not creepier, than regular-Derek.  
“Do you – do you know what's happening?” Stiles stuttered despite himself. Derek nodded slowly, keeping eye contact.  
“You hypnotized me.” he responded simply, which somehow unnerved Stiles further.  
“Right. Do you know why?”  
Derek didn't nod this time. “To remember.”  
Stiles suddenly felt antsy, too hyped up and filled with purpose to sit still, rising from his chair. “Right. To remember what Kate did to you.” his eyes widened and he waved his arms frantically as Derek's face began to darken, rushing to clarify as he realized his mistake. “When she took your powers and turned you into a kid again. When she took you to Mexico and wrapped you up in a weird little cocoon.”  
Derek's face cleared and he furrowed his brow, a frown tugging at the ends of his mouth. Stiles moved next to the bed, trying to read his expression. “Do you remember?”  
Derek shook his head no.  
“Do you remember Mexico at all? When she took you there the first time?”  
“No.”  
Stiles sighed, wiping his hand down his face and tapping his chin. “Alright. So let's go back further then. Let's start with after the nogitsune. What happened after all that?”  
There was a low grumble in Derek's throat that swiftly rose into a harsh growl, Stiles floundered in horror as he began sprouting hair from his face, teeth and nails extending.  
“Oh shit, Derek.” Stiles fell to his knees in front of him, grabbing his shoulder. “Derek, stay with me okay? I don't want the wolf to come out and play and eat me.” his frantic voice stalled his shift, the blue glow in his eyes fading, hair receding back into his face. Stiles shivered, that part always weirded him out. “We okay?” he asked, Derek lowered his eyes with a nod and Stiles stood back up, letting out a long, shaky breath.  
“Alright buddy, you gotta tell me what that was all about.”  
He looked up at him, all earnest eyebrows and soft hazel eyes and Stiles' heart stuttered, thank god normal Derek Hale was an asshole because he could destroy worlds with those puppy eyes. He moved away from him and leaned against his desk. “So?”  
Derek looked down at his hands as his wolf claws fully retracted, slowly folding them into loose fists. “I don't like anything about back then.” he muttered softly.  
Stiles couldn't blame him; they'd lost Allison and Aiden both in the same night, and they could've all died. He felt the familiar guilt settle in his stomach like a stone. “Well we have to start somewhere Derek, and that's the last time anyone saw you. Tell me what happened after; what you did, where you went.”  
Derek's fists curled tighter, tendons in his forearms twitching. His face twisted into one of rage and pain, Stiles was taken aback at the display of unmasked emotions, transfixed. “I tried so hard Stiles.” he bit out, staring at the fists shaking in his lap.  
“We know,” Stiles tried to stop him but Derek raised his voice, cutting him off.  
“I did everything I could, I never left you. I couldn't stop it.”  
Stiles furrowed his brow, leaning forward as if he hadn't heard him properly. “What? Left me?”  
Derek looked back up at him, his expression tight and sour. “Yes.”  
“What do you mean, you never left me?”  
“I followed you.”  
Stiles wasn't sure what caught him off-guard the most, the admission or the matter-of-fact tone in which Derek said it in. He had honestly thought Derek was wrapped up in his own crap for most of that whole debacle, he'd barely interacted with him at all the whole time he was possessed. “When? Where?” the words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop himself, he held up a hand to stop Derek before he automatically responded, shaking his head. “Just - Just, tell me everything. And stop it, you're going to hurt your hands.”  
Derek's fists relaxed at his words, unclenching to spread his palms on his jeans. “I followed all three of you after Jennifer.” he scowled at her name. “After you sacrificed yourselves, all of you were effected. All of you had hallucinations. But only you had the nightmares, you were the one effected the most severely. So I kept following.” he was steady and calm as he spoke, as if reading from a boring script. “I watched everything and didn't understand, couldn't figure out how to stop it. I-” he hesitated for the briefest of moments, his voice straining slightly. “I waited outside of Lycan House. I couldn't hear, or see, or smell anything, I was cut off. And when you came out, you were all wrong. You were worse; you smelled broken, you smelled of pain, of sex,” he spat the word out harshly, speeding up, “Of death and rot and everything that you aren't.” His face darkened, hands gripping at his legs. “I couldn't stop it.” he hissed and looked up at him, his eyes glowing faintly.  
“Derek, that's not your fault.” Stiles stepped closer to him as if his proximity would soothe him, his voice barely above a whisper. “No one could stop it.”  
Derek reached out and snatched his arm, holding it firmly. “I should have, I should have saved you.” he said as the boy's golden eyes went wide, his fingers digging into the soft, pale skin of his arm. “You're my responsibility, all of you.”  
Stiles snatched his arm back as if he'd been branded, his breaths coming short and fast. “Yeah, well. No one blames you, you shouldn't either. Blame me, if anything.”  
“No.” the reply was simple.  
Stiles puffed out his cheeks and rubbed at neck, Derek watched him. He was beginning to feel overwhelmed. He didn't think he'd ever had a conversation this long with Derek Hale in his life, and touching on such painful subjects was draining him. “Alright so after that. What happened after that.”  
Derek's face went blank, light leaving his eyes. “Darkness. Catacombs.”  
“Back up, too far. Before the catacombs. Do you remember who put you there?” he began to pace the room, Derek shook his head no. “Driving, flying there? What about leaving Beacon Hills?”  
“No.” he shook his head again.  
“Alright, before Beacon Hills. Where's the last place you remember?”  
Derek stiffened, looking out the window. “The pool.”  
“What, at the high school?” Stiles paused in his pacing to look at him in confusion, “Why were you there?”  
He watched him tense his jaw, a muscle working in his cheek. “It's calming.” he ground out through gritted teeth, not meeting his eyes. Stiles narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. Could hypnotized people lie?  
“That's not the reason. Or not the whole reason, anyway. Why did you go to the pool?”  
“Fond memories.” Derek said in that deadened monotone, Stiles' mouth dropped open.  
“What?” he almost yelled at him, eyes wide and incredulous. “Fond memories? Of what, when you got slashed with lizard man poison and almost died paralyzed in the deep end?”  
There was a long pause. “Yes.”  
Stiles had to reign himself in before his eyes popped out of his head. If that was his definition of a good time, this guy was seriously way more messed up than he'd thought. He ran his fingers through his hair in bewilderment. “What the f- just, why?”  
He could see Derek pressing his lips tightly together, as if he were trying to physically keep the words in his mouth. He stared at his knees. “I.” his voice stopped just short of cracking, Stiles watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed before trying again. “You held me up, I didn't drown. I would have, and I didn't.” Stiles raised his eyebrows at him, waiting for him to get past the obvious. Derek took a deep breath and continued haltingly. “I just, no one's ever cared. Enough to save me. And you were hurting so bad doing it, and you didn't let go.”  
Stiles slowly crossed his arms as he spoke, moving backwards until his backside hit the edge of his desk, sliding up to sit on it. He scratched at his jaw absently, somewhat dazed at the fact that Derek Hale considered his awkward rescue his fondest memory, he'd half forgotten about it altogether. “Hurting?” he wondered, trying to remember what that was all about.  
“Hurting.” Derek affirmed, he glanced up to meet the man's intense stare. “Your distress, or pain, or whatever it is, is a very sharp smell. Worse than chlorine.”  
Memories washed over him. He remembered his throat closing as he kept swallowing water, muscles on fire as he strained to keep Derek's impossible dead weight above the surface, each breath a ragged rasp ripping through his burning lungs. Stiles frowned slightly, he had no idea how he'd made it through over two whole hours of that hell, now that he thought about it. Now that he thought about it, that was probably one of his worst memories.   
“I did let you go.” he mused quietly to himself, not surprised when his sharp ears picked it up anyway.  
“To call Scott for help, because you couldn't hold me up anymore.” Derek corrected him quickly, “And when he didn't help you held me up anyway.” Stiles blinked up at him, unsure of how to respond. “You wouldn't have let me go.”  
Stiles was a little off-kilter, not expecting such a torrent of faith and borderline admiration from the alpha, one of which he had been under the impression half-hated him. He looked at Stiles, his hazel eyes shining with what looked like pride and respect, only making him feel like a fraud. He might not have gotten thanked for every time he'd saved someone's ass, but his ass had needed saving a lot more and he was the one putting everybody in danger half the time. He wasn't an asset, he was a liability.  
“How can you be so sure?” he laughed softly, his voice breaking with self-doubt. He saw Derek's mass grow larger across the room out of his periphery, glancing up to see him rising to stand beside the bed. He stood there motionless, watching him with a detached expression, arms hanging loosely at his sides.  
“Because that's who you are. You would've drown yourself trying to save me because you can't bring yourself to sacrifice anyone. Even your worst enemy.”  
“That's not true,” Stiles shot back immediately. “I mean, that's not it. Why I saved you, at least. I'd drown my worst enemy in a heartbeat. Man, if I got Jennifer, or that mummy asshole in that pool I woulda dunked them so fast-”  
“Then why did you.” Derek's voice held a note of insistence, eyes searching his intently. Stiles trailed off and spread his hands, shrugging uselessly.  
“I don't know, because I don't want you dead? It's not like I hate you, you're not a terrible guy. You're just a guy that terrible, terrible things constantly happen to.”  
Derek watched him silently from across the room, expression impossible to read. “You feel bad for me.”  
Stiles slid off the desk, emphatically denying it as he moved closer. “No no no, that's not it at all. C'mon, me? Feel bad for anyone? Don't be ridiculous, you of all people know how fragile I am.” he scratched his head and glanced out the window as he searched for a way to explain himself, “I just feel bad that bad things happen to you, you know? Like how people with emotions do?” he winced, even when he was trying to be nice it came out insulting. When he didn't respond, he kept trying. “Derek, I think we've come a long way from hating each other. I don't know if I'd go so far as saying we're pals, but I think I'd at least classify us as allies. I care about you, like the rest of the pack. I don't like you being hurt any more than you like seeing me hurt.”  
He glanced over at Derek still watching him, unnerved by the amount of eye contact the guy was able to maintain. He distinctly felt like he was violating some sort of blinking etiquette. “I doubt that.” he finally grunted, Stiles furrowed his brow.  
“What? What does that mean? You don't think I give a shit? Cause c'mon man, how many times do I gotta save that furry skin of yours before it sinks in?”  
Derek took a step forward and Stiles fell silent. “I didn't say that. I doubted – I doubt, that you could possibly dislike seeing me hurt more than it destroys me to see you hurt.”  
Stiles swallowed the words bubbling in his throat, opening and shutting his mouth a few times like a gasping fish before snapping his jaw shut and settling on staring at Derek. Yeah they had a weird connection where they implicitly trusted each other with their lives, they had overcome overwhelming hatred and fear towards one another, and yeah, despite their odds when the chips were down they'd found the only ones who always managed to show up were each other. But their relationship was at a tentative camaraderie level at best; nowhere near close enough to be having an emotional conversation on their feelings about when the other was in peril.  
The thought crossed his mind of how pissed Derek would be if he found out he had said all this while hypnotized, and the idea that maybe they should be having this conversation at a different time occurred to him. He couldn't help the wave of panic that suddenly swept over him, the air grew thick around him, he felt like he was underwater. This was not how this session was supposed to go; somehow, somewhere the conversation had veered wildly off course.  
“I get it.” he said, clearing his throat when his voice cracked. He did, he really did get it, more than he felt comfortable thinking about. “Listen, Derek, I think we need -” he cut himself off with an undignified squeak.  
Derek had advanced on him, standing two steps away, his face dark and shadowed, eyebrows drawn together and eyes cutting into him. He stepped back in surprise, Derek's hand shot out and grabbed him by the arm, holding him in place. “What's wrong with you.”  
Stiles gaped up at him, completely lost and trying to wrench his arm back, Derek's grip tightening, claws biting into his forearm. “What?”  
Derek brought his face closer to his own to inspect it, narrowed eyes flashing blue. “You smell wrong.” he muttered, sounding displeased. “Your heartrate.”  
A stream of a thousand curses ran through Stiles' brain; sometimes he really hated being surrounded by freaking werewolves that could smell the slightest emotional change and sense the most minute shift of one's heartbeat. “Hey, I'm good. No worries.” he patted Derek's shoulder awkwardly, cringing at the tightness he found there. “I just think we should ah, get back on track and try to help you remember. You know, what we started all this for?”  
Derek watched him speak with a frown. “You're lying.” he growled, hand still firmly on his arm. “Why.”  
Stiles was very aware of the fact Derek was now sporting claws, his eyes were flashing blue, and he had reverted to monosyllabic responses. He wasn't sure if it was because he apparently smelled wrong, or if he thought he was lying to him about something, but he was getting all growly and good things rarely followed that. He yanked against the older man's grip again, still unable to shake himself free.  
“I don't know what you're talking about.” Stiles' spluttered, genuinely baffled as he looked up at him with wide eyes. “Derek, snap out of it.”  
His words fell on deaf ears as Derek had apparently dismissed vocal communication, his eyes searching every inch of Stiles' face and stance for clues, sniffing at him. This was crossing into weird territory, real fast. “Derek? Derek.”  
This time hearing his name did nothing to suppress the wolf, Stiles felt his heart sink when claws only curled tighter around his forearm. He raised his left arm to try to clap and wake him, but Derek batted his wrist away over and over mindlessly, as if his valiant attempts were a minor annoyance. Stiles could practically hear the wolf's brain over-analyzing him, he bit back a sigh.  
“You smell of turmoil.” Derek concluded, Stiles fought the creeping anxiety at his correct assumption. Well great, now that he knew something was definitely wrong, he'd leave him alone for sure. “Why.”  
“I don't know, why don't you sniff my armpit and tell me.” he snapped. Stiles was irritated and sick of being held on to and told what to do, wrenching at his arm with a fresh rush of energy and tiring himself quickly. Derek seemed to be considering his suggestion seriously.  
“Did I do something that bothered you?” he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice, watching him closely. Stiles rolled his eyes at him, making a very pointed look at his captive arm.  
“Besides not letting me go? You're a regular Mr. Sunshine.”  
Derek growled at him, disliking his snarky response, frowning at him when he instinctively leaned away from the angry werewolf. He loosened his grip on his arm slightly, Stiles saw this as an opening, resuming his struggle to break free. Derek held fast and slapped his other hand away diligently as he thought, Stiles making a variety of exerted noises as he battled tirelessly.  
“Did I say something that bothered you?” Derek asked, Stiles huffed indignantly at him and tried to get his hands to connect together, just once, but Derek wouldn't let them anywhere near each other. Hazel eyes widened, brightening at the struggling boy in his grip. “That's it, I said something.” His victory was short-lived, face darkening again. “What did I say.”  
Stiles had exhausted himself again, he waved his free arm in exasperation. “I don't know, don't ask me! You didn't say anything Derek, just knock it off and let go already.”   
He was aware of the shift in the air around them as he wasn't looking up at him, suddenly Derek was looming over him, the hand gripping his arm pressing and insistent. “Stiles.”  
The name was a growl that made his hair stand on end, his breaths came quicker as he gulped up at him. His mind raced, trying to think of something, anything he could make up to pacify Derek before he wolfed out entirely; but he was blank. Even if he could miraculously think of something, he'd never be able to sell a lie to him in this state.  
“Derek, I swear if I knew, I'd tell you so you'd back up. My personal space is being severely violated and I'm pretty sure if you keep hanging onto me like this, it can at least be considered involuntary imprisonment, even if it is in my house.”  
There was a long pause that hung heavy in the air, Derek stared down at him, tilting his head in suspicion. “Stiles,” he said slowly, “Was it when I said it destroys me to see you hurt?”  
Stiles had been shocked when he'd said it the first time and he hadn't been expecting it, and if it was possible, he had been expecting it even less the second time. He flushed in embarrassment, for himself and for Derek, even if he was too wolfed out to know he should be embarrassed in the first place. He went to speak and the words died in his throat, he was sure he seemed very convincing and dignified as he floundered. Derek watched the emotions flit across his face in undisguised fascination. “Why?”  
Stiles gestured uselessly. “Just, I don't – you just don't say that kind of stuff, man. C'mon.”  
Derek's grip faltered to the point where Stiles thought he was considering letting him go, yanking on his arm in one last attempt to catch him off-guard. Derek snarled and his face darkened, he flung his arm away and grabbed him by the shirt with both hands.  
“Would. You. Stop. That.” His voice was low and menacing as he backed him across the room, Stiles flailed gracelessly in his grip as he backpedaled. He slammed him up against the bedroom door, head thudding softly against the wood; jaw clenching as the boy squirmed in his grip, attempting to clap his hands over the werewolf's thick arms. He scowled at him, the thrashing only further upsetting him. “Stiles.” he growled loudly, his face inches away, struggling to contain the beast within him. Stiles' eyes widened and fell to his mouth, Derek's pointed teeth growing larger and sharper.  
He sagged in his grip, heart pounding, licking his lips nervously. “Oh god, please don't kill me.”  
Derek froze, staring down at him; still firmly ignoring any and all rules of blinking etiquette. “You know I won't kill you,” he muttered, more musing to himself as he examined him. He listened to his rabbiting heart thudding in his chest, felt his ragged breaths move the air in front of him, breathed in his scent; frowning at him and closing his lips over his teeth when he saw his golden-eyed gaze still transfixed on his mouth. He blinked down at the boy, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “That's not why you don't want me close to you.”  
Stiles' mouth opened and closed a few times and he shifted wordlessly against the door, for once unable to think of something to say. “Hey, I can think of a thousand reasons why it's not preferable, besides you trying to kill me.” he trailed off as Derek's eyes fell to his neck, focused on the vein throbbing just beneath the surface, jumping with his skittering pulse. His right hand loosened on his shirt, lifting to skim his fingers over the exposed skin; hazel eyes darkening as he shivered at the touch.  
Stiles tried to break away in utter mortification as his body betrayed him, feeling very vulnerable with Derek mid wolf-out and his claw on his jugular. Derek's other hand still held fast and he remained pinned in place, he flashed his fangs again as he smirked down at him in amusement.  
“I wouldn't even have to hear your heartbeat to know you're lying.” he intoned, his voice deeper than Stiles had ever heard it, rumbling through his chest and making his stomach pitch. Derek furrowed his brow and inhaled deeply, Stiles held his breath as he brought his face next to his, sniffing near his ear.  
“Derek, we have gotten so massively, impossibly off-topic here. I don't know how I keep offending you, I'm sorry for whatever I'm doing.” Stiles couldn't help rambling as he was silently interrogated, wondering if this subconscious part of Derek was psychotically sensitive or just overly aggressive. “Listen, just tell me exactly what it is you're getting upset about and I can explain myself.” he tried desperately not to jump as what he assumed to be the tip of Derek's nose brushed the side of his ear, his breath hot and invasive on the side of his neck. It was getting harder to breath and he was relying more on the hand on his chest for support, his legs feeling unsteady beneath him as a wave of dizziness and panic washed over him.  
Derek's fist tightened, twisting his shirt tighter and stepping up against him, making it impossible for him to move. Stiles let out an undignified squeak and pressed himself as hard as he could to the surface behind him, laying his palms flat against it as if he could meld his body into the wood itself. He turned his head slightly to avoid his face pressing into the other man's neck, wincing in discomfort. “Dude-”  
“Tell me Stiles.” Derek's voice was low in his ear, “How long have you been worried about me doing this?” his lips brushed against his neck, smooth and warm; Stiles jumped with a yelp and immediately struggled against him. He crushed his body against him to hold him in place, hard and unyielding, left hand dropping his shirt to catch his jaw, tilting his face away to gain better access to his neck. His mouth moved across his skin leaving a hot, wet trail, teeth catching and wresting an unbidden moan from the younger boy.  
“God.” Stiles gasped out, trying to use the door for leverage and push him off. Derek's hand shot out to catch one of his wrists and pin it against the wall, his fingers tightened below his jaw as he pressed into him harder, mouth moving down towards his shoulder. Stiles groaned at the pressure, his skin on fire beneath his lips. He couldn't help it, he hadn't felt anyone's touch in so long; he felt desperate and helpless with need and want, arching into him, breath hitching in his chest at the wave of pleasure that coursed through his body. “Derek-”  
He brought his face up to his own and the rest of Stiles' thought was lost, his mouth hanging open uselessly as he stared up into Derek's searching eyes above him; dark, intense, hungry. He released his wrist to catch both sides of his face, crashing down to meet his mouth, fierce and unrelenting. Stiles was frozen beneath him for half a second, eyes wide in disbelief; only to roll back when Derek pressed hard up against him, the heat and weight of his body making him melt beneath him. His hands clutched at his forearms between them as Derek coaxed his lips apart, his knees almost gave out as his tongue slid into his mouth and teased his own.  
Derek pushed against him and rumbled with satisfaction at the moans he elicited, pushing a knee between his leg, thigh brushing against his crotch. Stiles broke away from his mouth with a sharp intake of air; suddenly realizing in a panic that this was happening, that he had let this happen, that he had to stop-  
All rational thought was lost as Derek's mouth returned to his neck while he was distracted, moving against him and pressing himself against his hip, hard and pulsing through two layers of denim. “Jesus Christ.” Stiles panted, breath hitching as he shifted his leg into his cock straining through his jeans, unable to stop himself from jutting forward at the contact. “Derek-”  
His voice broke into a near whine as his lips found the sweet spot just behind his ear, his head falling to the side and his fingers tangling desperately in his hair. He relished the feeling of his arms winding around his sides and gripping at him, fingers pressing into his skin with a firm insistence; nipping and sucking along Stiles' neck while he held on for dear life. They writhed against each other, gasping and rutting and groaning, mouths finding each other again and again; Stiles was at the edge and he knew Derek was right there with him, when suddenly he remembered and reality crashed down around him.  
“Oh my god.” he blurted, jerking away, staring in shock at Derek's eyes clouded with lust, mouth red and swollen. He yanked his fingers out of his hair and quickly clapped his hands over his shoulders; Derek's eyes rolling back in his head as he dropped to the floor like a stone.  
Stiles stood frozen against the door, arms still extended over Derek's motionless body at his feet, his mind an absolute blank. It would not, could not process what had just occurred; Stiles lowered his arms slowly and carefully stepped around his unconscious form, staring down at him as if he might wake and rip him limb from limb any moment. He stumbled backwards until he hit his desk and gripped it for support, still unable to tear his eyes off of Derek; Derek who he had just hypnotized and proceeded to make out with and dry hump like an over-excited puppy. His eyes darted to the computer next to him, the video still paused on the screen; scrambling over to his mouse to hurriedly click out of the program as if it could magically restart and begin the whole nightmare over again.  
The clock said it was almost two in the morning. Stiles was thankful his dad had an overnight shift and wouldn't be back anytime soon to contribute to this already massive headache; he made his way back to Derek, wondering how long he'd be out. He poked at him with a foot a few times until he was sure he was actually unconscious before hunching down beside him to try to gather him up. He had the brilliant idea of pulling him over to the bed and letting him sleep there until he actually got semi-underneath the guy and realized how heavy he was, grunting with exertion as he struggled to gain traction in his socks.  
Derek's limbs hung limp and dragged along the floor as Stiles heaved him backwards, sighing with relief when the back of his legs hit the mattress. He propped Derek up and hooked his arms around his waist, straightening his legs and hauling him back until half his torso was on top of the bed. He scooted back and pulled him back further on the mattress from beneath the arms, satisfied when his legs dangled off the floor. He awkwardly slid out from under him, trying not to disturb him more and almost falling on his face as he crawled off the bed. He wrenched his leather jacket out from under him, shaking out the creases to cover him with it, all the blankets now trapped beneath his hulking mass. He stood above him for a moment afterwards to catch his breath, watching the fluttering of his dark eyelashes against his cheeks.  
He turned away, feeling his face begin to grow hot, he rubbed at his neck and collapsed in his computer chair. He had no idea what the hell had just happened, or how it had happened; all he knew was he was exhausted beyond all belief and he was never hypnotizing another person again in his life. He felt underneath the chair for the knob to adjust the seat, twisting it and leaning back, tipping his head against the cushion and settling in. He usually couldn't sleep without his pillow, but after the night he had, he could've fallen asleep on the roof. He looked over at Derek on his bed once more before closing his eyes, still not convinced what had just transpired was real. Maybe he'd fall asleep and wake up. 

The Next Morning:  
Stiles awoke to the sounds of movement in his room; blearily regaining consciousness sprawled in his computer chair with an impressive crick in his neck. He shot upwards before his eyes could open fully, wiping drool from his cheek and blinking around the room in confusion for the source of the noise. A dark figure was moving through his room that slowly took Derek's shape, he was pulling on his leather jacket and adjusting the collar. Stiles gaped, brain unable to form coherent thought. Holy shit.  
He had been sure what happened last night had been a dream, but there was no mistaking Derek Hale in your bedroom. He continued gaping until Derek looked over his shoulder and noticed him staring, raising an eyebrow at him. “You're up.”  
Stiles' mouth was dry, he'd slept with his mouth open; his tongue felt fuzzy as he licked his lips. “I think so.” he cleared his throat, rubbing at his neck as Derek turned around.  
“So how'd we do last night?” he folded his arms, glancing at the clock; Stiles followed his gaze. It was seven o clock, his father would be home soon. He fought the blush rising on his cheeks, trying to think of very unsexy, wrinkly nuns to keep his mind off of where the words 'last night' brought him to. He cleared his throat again.  
“Uh, actually we did alright, no complications or anything.” he said, twisting in his seat and stretching to ease the tension in his back. “I didn't really get what we need, you would just go blank when I asked you anything about Mexico. But uh, I kinda think that's a clue in itself, you know? Like, if even your subconscious is tampered with then it had to be a spell, or something done purposefully to wipe it, it's not accidental or coincidental. And if it's a spell, then that means it can be reversed.”  
Derek considered this, shrugging after a moment. “That's a good point. Good work then.” he glanced over at the clock again, nodding at it. “When's your dad home?”  
Stiles couldn't help but feel a little deflated; while it was nice Derek offered him any praise at all, he'd hoped for something a little less lackluster. Although he supposed he should just be grateful nothing backfired more than it already had. “Not long, he's off around now so it could be ten, fifteen minutes.” he stood up and shook out his legs, running his fingers through his messy hair in an attempt to tame it.  
Derek glanced out the window, smoothing the creases in his leather sleeves, squinting up at the sun. “Alright,” He said, moving over to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Hey Stiles,” he turned slightly, glancing at him over his shoulder. “You aren't supposed to remember stuff from when you're hypnotized, right?”  
Stiles froze in place, his feet rooted to the ground, swallowing hard as he lowered his hands from his head and shoved them in his pockets in what he hoped was a nonchalant fashion. He ignored the fear clutching his heart and attempted to sound normal, furrowing his eyebrows at him. “Yeah, why?”  
He shook his head as he turned, opening the door. “Nothing,” he said as he moved through the doorway. “You're just a shitty hypnotist.”  
Stiles' mouth dropped open and his stomach rolled; Derek glanced back, grinning wickedly at him with a flash of teeth. “You should get those covered up.” He pointed at Stiles' neck and swung the door shut behind him, leaving Stiles gaping in his wake.  
He stumbled over to his dresser and looked in the mirror; a rash of hickeys along his neck to his collarbone, pinks and reds and a hint of purple behind his ear. He ran his fingers along them, eyes wide and the sensitive skin tingling. It hadn't been a dream.

Holy shit.


End file.
